Becoming The Beast
by NickandLiv
Summary: What if Lewis had tried to live his life on the straight-and-narrow but then it all went wrong? My take on that. One shot.


**Bear with me here people. I got to imagining William Lewis in a somewhat different light. What if he hadn't always been so Lewis? What if he had actually been quite meek and tried to fight his homicidal tendencies and blend in with society? Then I imagined what might have driven him to Crazyville and this is what I came up with, don't judge me. Dick Wolf owns what's his, enjoy!**

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"I SWEAR, THE NEXT PERSON THAT PISSES ME OFF IS A DEAD PERSON!" I screamed in my head after this imbecile of a woman bumped – more like collided with me in the hallway, knocking a huge stack of papers from my arms, and sending them flying everywhere without so much as an 'excuse me.'

"Bitch!" I mumbled under my breath as I scrambled to pick up and re-arrange my stack while she just walked away like she didn't have a care in the world! This is pretty much my life. I have always been invisible to the rest of the world, and when they do take notice it's usually to push, shove, crash, bump, spill or drop on, bang into or interrupt me, and never once is there an apology offered. Would it kill these idiots to sacrifice an 'I'm sorry' from their stupid mouths? Over the years I have developed quite a fond hatred for humans – women in particular. They are so caught up in nothing that they've forgotten that other people matter! I see them rushing about in their cars, or on their cell phones, or those stupid iThingies! HELLO, people on the planet here! If I could crack their heads open and skull fuck them, I would!

"William Ezekiel Lewis!" I chastened myself "What did Pastor tell you about those evil thoughts? We must pray the devil away, you cannot be like daddy was." I reminded myself as I clutched the cross I always wore around my neck and asked Jesus for strength to endure. How much longer before this day would be over?

As I headed home that evening, all I could think about was having a nice bowl of Apple Jacks for dinner, and curling up with Gladys (my 14 year old cat and my only friend) to watch _House _after saying my evening prayers. Apple Jacks where comfort food for me. When I'd bite into that cinnamon sweetness, all of my problems would melt away and after the day I'd had, the idea of that cinnamon goodness was just what I needed – too bad fate – and Satan had other plans! After feeding Gladys I headed upstairs from the basement where I lived in my Granny's house – that evil old coot! How anyone as mean as she was could still be alive at 91 was beyond me! I hated Granny (and I knew that those feelings weren't Christ-like), but she was all the family I had and Jesus would want me to honor her. Plus, since I'm 22 and couldn't afford to move out on my own, I was kinda stuck with her.

I went upstairs to the kitchen with Gladys in my arms, and sat her down on the table so that I could fix my cereal, but when I looked in the cupboard, it wasn't there! Where the hell was my cereal?

"Granny!" I called as nice as I could. Her voice came hollering back from the living room

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT"?

"Where's my cereal"? I asked as she came shuffling into the kitchen. I hated this room, the whole damn house actually! It looked like something out of the 1970's with its stained Formica and dirty, peeling brown and yellow wallpaper. Plus, Granny smoked like a chimney so the place reeked of cigarettes!

"Oh, that crap you're always eating? Yeah, the green box was annoying me. It was too green so I threw it out!" She told me matter-of-factly, her freshly lit cigarette barely held by the corners of her thin, wrinkled lips. I paused for a moment, and looked at her questionably (did I mention that in addition to being a foul demon of a woman, Granny was a foul demon of a woman who was bi-polar?).

"Why would you do that?" I whined, careful not to yell. The only thing Granny hated more than polite conversation was being screamed at, and Granny didn't take no mess!

"_Why would you do that?"_ she mocked. "It's only cereal! Quit bein' such a damn wimp!"

"_Only_ cereal? That _cereal_ was my dinner, and now there isn't time to get another box! ALL I WANTED WAS MY FUCKING CEREAL AND YOU RUINED IT!"

"SCREW YOU AND YOUR DAMN CEREAL YA JERK! You take that tone with me again, and I'll beat ya silly!" then she turned to walk away, but not before grabbing Gladys violently by the scruff of her neck. "and keep your damn pussy off my table!" she screamed before throwing Gladys across the room.

"Granny NOOOO!" I screamed while watching in horror as my beloved kitty flew across the room, and hit the wall so hard that she bounced and her limp, lifeless body hit the floor. I fell to my knees sobbing.

"Well, look at that!" She mused, "I guess they _don't_ always land on their feet!"

In that moment, I snapped, and before I knew it, I had Granny pinned beneath me on the floor, my hands firmly around her ugly, wrinkled neck, and I was choking the life out of her! She tried to fight but she was no match. Coming through my hands was 22 years of pent-up anger, hurt, and frustration, and I would not stop until Granny was as dead as Gladys! Fuck Jesus, my daddy was speaking through me!

"Is that tight enough for ya Granny?" I asked through clenched teeth as tears streamed my face, and I banged her head repeatedly into the floor, causing her wig to fall off. My grandmother was dying. I was her killer, and it felt damn good – almost God-like to know that right now I had the power of life and death; her very survival depended on my mercy, and I would have none! I squeezed harder, looking deep into her eyes as they bulged out of her head and her life left her, and when it was done and I stood over her, I knew that something in me had changed, that I would never again be a victim, and I had this dead piece of shit to thank for it!

I gave her corpse a swift kick to the ribs before I went to her bedroom, and took the metal box under her bed that she used as a bank, and took a quick look inside (there was probably a couple hundred thousand dollars in there), and closed it. With the box under my arm I grabbed the keys to the 1964 mint condition Chevy Impala that I was never allowed to drive then spit on Granny, scooped up dead Gladys in my arms, and walked out the door, stopping only to pick up the still-lit cigarette that had flown from Granny's mouth and onto the ugly green shag carpet when I took her down and I stubbed it out on her chest… wouldn't wanna start a fire!

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**I'm sorry.**


End file.
